


A Duty to Greenwood

by orphan_account



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Consent, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Impregnation, M/M, Mentions of past! Thranduil, Pregnancy, Rough Sex, Sex, Thranduil Not Being An Asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:39:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As Legolas is decidedly not going to be the next king of Mirkwood, Thranduil’s left in a tricky spot as a monarch with no heir. Since elves customarily only fall in love once… he’s going to have to compromise in secret. Hang on for a wild ride and an commoner elf who just wants to make the best of a situation she got all but thrown into. Dilemmas! Friendship! Sexy times! General chaos ensue. Tags will be updated as the story is!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies if Thranduil seems at all OOC while we get the plot sorted out, he’s tricky to write, and it’s not like we really know enough about him not to headcanon most of his personality. Other than that, enjoy! I saw a prompt on tumblr and ran wild with it, so it might not be everyone’s taste and that’s okay! I had fun writing it. All the elvish names came from a generator.

For the first time since the battle of the five armies upon the lonely mountain and the defeat of Smaug, the elven council of Mirkwood called for a convergence. And the Elvenking had not been the one to call it, but his advisors did, and for once Thranduil had no idea what to expect. He did not see a reason for an unscheduled meeting. Everything was at peace in the realm for once. The agreements with the men of Dale had been settled, and they finally pushed back the worst of the giant spider encroachments. 

“Ai, Hîr vuin.” The council members greeted the king as he made his entrance, bowing slightly in respect as he took his reserved seat at the head of the large, oval-shaped meeting table carved from the same wood as the forest around them. 

“Be seated.” The Elvenking granted them in return with a nod, voice slightly curt. “I cannot fathom the need for a meeting when there are duties to be done, so out with it.” 

A few of them looked around at each other nervously, and immediately Thranduil knew something was afoot. 

“What has happened?” 

“My king,” One of the few finally spoke up, clearing his voice as he did so. “We elvenkind uphold honor and tradition above all else. Our customs are what set us apart from the other creatures of the realm.” 

Thranduil made a motion for the advisor to get to his point quickly. He was king, there were none with the authority to educate him on tradition, it was all at his decision anyway. 

“Well,” The advisor looked down quickly, summoning his courage to broach the sensitive topic. “We marry and pledge ourselves to love but once in our long lifetime, every one of us,” He made eye contact briefly with the king. “May the late queen prosper in the undying lands of Valinor for as many millennia as she has been departed from us.”

At that, Thranduil’s eye sharpened, just waiting for one misspoken word. Not many would ever dare mention his late wife, especially not with the King present, and even more so two millennia after her passing when not many could even recall her existence at all. 

“You are our king, it is your birthright by your father Oropher and you have to lead your people of Mirkwood to prosperity and through battle.” All of this was known by the king, and he worried suddenly about what they were going to propose after all this flattery. 

“Prince Legolas has long expressed no interest in the weight of the crown.” The advisor looked nervous again. “His late departure of nearly a century from the Greenwood and his rejection of his place as prince leaves the nation without an heir.”

Thranduil sat back in his seat, in truth, he had given this much thought. 

“My king, there are none other by your bloodline in Mirkwood with the ancient magic to rule us. We will need a solution, and soon, before the council in Rivendell can make a decision for us.” That’s how they phrased it. It was no doubt, that any elf would gladly support another during hard times, but there had been a century growing divide between the two tribes descending from the Noldor and the Teleri elves of old. Lord Elrond of Rivendell was technically under the charge of Elvenking Thranduil, but all knew Elrond considered himself and his line just as superior. The situation… wasn’t ideal.

“I admit, this has been on my mind for some time. Legolas only grows fonder of his friends outside our borders and has no interest in returning home. It is not an easy remedy.” Thranduil sighed, usually stoic in demeanor. 

“We have a solution to propose. One that does not impede on our customs that you set.” Spoke the youngest member of the council, a wise one, Thranduil could tell, because his face was flush with fear of the repercussions of the suggestion of his next words. “Should your majesty be willing, you take a concubine to produce an heir in a quiet manner. One healthy and willing and with no family ties to compete for the throne.”

Thranduil was apparently stunned into silence. A mistress? Lay illicitly with an elven woman for the purpose only of creating another heir? While immediately distasteful, especially as he was not the first to think of it, even he had to admit it was a strong - and perhaps the only -suggestion to fix their singular problem. 

“This would be done in secrecy of course, and then the council is prepared to validate and declare any offspring legitimate.” The advisor added quickly at the sight of the King’s face twisting in thought. Rather than reject it outright, Thranduil needed to give it thought. 

“I know my realm. Who would even fit the criteria?” His avoidance of outright acceptance but neither denial was a sigh of relief to the council. 

“Candidates are few, indeed.” A third advisor nodded gravely. “But in preparation for this, we have scoured the villages clandestinely and procured someone who fits the position. Of course, the ultimate decision resides with you, our king.” 

“Tell me of her.” Thranduil pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, wondering how it had really come to this. 

“She resides in our most populous village in Mirkwood, a maiden to a tavern and who also tends to care for the elflings nearby. As far as we can gather, her parentage was two of our guard lost in battle upon her youth. She is young, not yet two millennia, and full of life. Her name is Túel for strength and she is not promised to anyone.” The advisor who read him the prepared information had a twinge of hope in his voice, pleased with the expediency of the conversation.

“Valar, she’s going to have to be strong,” Thranduil muttered under his voice, a play on her name. “Bring her then, tomorrow. I will make a decision after review.” Suddenly he recalled their words. Not yet two thousand? His own son was older than that. But perhaps her youthful exuberance would serve them both well in these uncharted waters. 

 

Túel wiped down the last of the few empty tables in the tavern, it’s last occupants having gotten excited over yet another tale and leaving a sticky ale mess seeping into the wood. The rest of the room still heaved with revelry, cups full and ruckus loud. 

Finished, she hefted the tub of suds onto her hip and returned to the kitchens, pouring it down the drain, happy that this was her final task of the night. She yearned for a soak and the fresh linens of her bed she’d washed the day before. 

Túel’s life might have been monotonous to some, day in and out at the tavern for a fair wage and decent respect, and there certainly were days she yearned for more, but between the stories new customers brought and the days off where she watched over the few young elflings of the village in turn, she felt satisfied. The repetition of it all was numbing and after the falling of her mother and father in her young age, she hadn’t been properly trained to take up a sword in their place. Another life wasn’t available to her, should she even want it. Better to be happy with what she had and not think about the long future ahead. 

She untied the apron from her waist that kept the grime from staining her clothes - a simple tunic and leather leggings - and hung it on its peg, giving the cook a nod of farewell before stepping out the back entrance into the cool air of the night.

Only to be met with a party of three. Two dressed in guard robes on either side of the third. And they were looking directly at her.

“Túel?” The one spoke, asking her name. 

“Who asks?” The return wasn’t exactly polite, but an encounter with strangers wasn’t something planned into her night. Her hand shifted to her back, closer to the dagger she kept tucked there in case of any wandering hands on the job. 

“At ease, milady.” The formal title was a bit odd around these parts, and wasn’t hers, but he continued. “I am Lord Gellamon.” Someone from the palace, here? “You are Túel, correct?”

“Yes.” She relaxed a bit, of only that. She couldn’t possibly imagine their reasoning for seeking her out, but if they’d intended her harm she’d likely already be dead. 

“Wonderful.” The elf did look genuinely pleased. “You are summoned to the High Elvenking’s court.” 

“What?” She frowned,

“If there is anything you should like to bring, lead the way, we plan to escort you there now,” Gellamon instructed, not giving her any more detail but a grinning smile instead.

“Now?” She was stunned. They come and demand she go to the esteemed palace with no time to even prepare herself. 

“Indeed. We must travel all night to meet the King’s audience at daybreak.” The tone with which he spoke was serious. Her life could use a little excitement but she wondered what possibly could warrant such an event. 

“My home is just above the tavern.” She nodded. “I’ll gather a few things.” They hadn’t said for how long she’d be staying at all, but she was lucky to have meager belongings and nothing of too great a value to leave behind. 

They let her go, and she climbed the steps in the same alleyway that lead to her dwelling. It was a small place, a bed and a wardrobe on one side and a desk with a few letters on the other. Her chest-like wardrobe contained simple clothing, and she put her most sensible traveling clothes as well as her cleanest dress - a lapis blue gown she’d sewn herself with woolen fabric from the market - into a knapsack she could sling over her shoulder. 

Last minute, she looked into the small mirror above the desk and braided her long hair around her head, a style easier to keep while journeying a distance.

The trio still waited below and with a silent farewell to her home, she followed them around the corner to where horses had been tied. 

The night was upon them and Lord Gellamon helped her onto the largest steed, tying her bag to the saddle and hoisting himself up behind her. Starlight lit their path through the woods and they rode hard, one guard leading the path and the other taking up the rear. They remained silent, a feeling of urgency about them and she took in the sight of Mirkwood around them, the hours passing quickly. 

As promised, the small caravan reached the broad doors of the palace just as the first rays of morning light broke through the trees. It was still early enough that there were none around save the guard, and she did not pass anyone about as she followed Gellamon up and into the King’s home. The place enthralled her, the carvings and the ancient feeling beckoning her closer inspection, which she vowed to do given a spare moment. 

“May I be given a moment to prepare myself?” She spoke up suddenly, remembering she was there to see the mighty Elvenking, after all. Gellamon gave her a once over and shrugged, clearly figuring her appearance was good enough.

“There is no time.” Was his answer, and before she knew it, they were at the heart of the palace, at the sacred place of the throne. 

The guard to Túel’s left relieved her of her knapsack and Gellamon stood in front of her, temporarily blocking her view of the throne, and thus it’s waiting occupant. 

“High King Thranduil.” Gellamon greeted with a bow of respect, which Túel mirrored behind him. “I bring with me the elleth we spoke of.” With that, the Lord stepped out of the way, giving her full view of their reigning monarch. The sight before her was both beautiful and fierce. 

The king was adorned in silks, detailed patterns of fine craftsmanship stitched into every strand, and here she stood, in a belted tunic and muddy leggings. His platinum hair flew freely, adorned with an intricate crown that matched the flowers in bloom throughout his kingdom. Túel’s own ruddy amber hair was in a now loose braid around her head, surely a sight after the travels. His face was the epitome of youth while his expression betrayed ancient wisdom.

The king had yet to speak, and she bowed again, eyes downcast. 

“My king.” She spoke in respect, all too suddenly aware she had no idea why she was there in his presence in the first place. 

Had she upset a customer of the tavern so grievously that they sought recompense with the King? She could not recall doing so. No. Surely the King himself would not sully himself with such commoners troubles. He had battles and diplomacy and the survival of the Greenwood on his shoulders already. 

Eying the younger elf with some regard of curiosity, he had half expected his council to present him with a pompous maiden dressed in the court’s latest idea of alluring fashion. 

And yet, this… Túel before him was incredibly… simple. Yes. If he was sure to go through with this, it would be with this humble elf before him. Thranduil considered himself a great judge of character and she had yet to even speak more than two words. He had made up his mind. 

“Túel, has Lord Gellamon explained why you have been called here?” He figured they might as well get to the point of it all. 

“No, Sire.” The king’s words drew her attention back to meet his eyes. 

“Good.” He started, confusing her already. “Because in order to continue this conversation, I must have your sworn secrecy no matter the outcome.” 

“Of course, my king.” Túel agreed, her allegiance true. 

“There is a time for all to be revealed,” He seemed to assure her, but his next words were a thinly veiled threat, spoken low so she could hear him clearly. “But loose lips ravage in the most unpleasant of ways.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I understand.” She nodded resolutely, feet shifting beneath her. The king could divulge state secrets and Túel would take them to her grave. Perhaps she could not have said that before, but witnessing the Elvenking in person brought out a feeling of loyalty she could not describe. 

“I am in need of another heir,” Thranduil spoke with confidence, but his eyes could not meet hers as he said them, the vulnerability apparent. He shook his head lightly to clear them and continued. “Tradition is a pillar of our existence, and plan to continue it, but without taking a wife, you might see the dilemma.”

She could not speak. What- what exactly was he saying? She swallowed silently but held her gaze steady.

“A child is not made by a father alone. Much consideration has been taken, and my advisors have assured me that they have found the best possible candidate.” He looked at her then, pointedly, conveying as best he could just exactly he was asking of her. She could not help but flush, the request sinking in fully.

“My-“ Túel started and stopped, thinking how best to phrase her words, making eye contact with the wooden floor once more. “I am nobody. I have no family besides friends of my own making, and I possess no assets. I am not of noble blood.” If the king wished to procreate, she thought he would ask someone worthy, of status. His response was light in tone, conveying truth.

“That is precisely what drew my advisors to choose you. While an arrangement such as this may feel like a duty, I assure it need not all be. I shall give you anything you should need and the honor of begetting a royal elfling. Perhaps, even, we shall both find… pleasure, despite the unusual circumstances.” 

His words piqued her interest, but there was much to consider. The king looked her over again and in a moment much unusual for the confident ruler, brushed a stray lock of hair fallen from its braid off her shoulder. The tender gesture steeled the watching advisor, his hope that this solution might not be rejected by the king growing. 

Honor and tradition told Túel no, that she should wait for another to bond with wholly as was expected, but in her nearly two millennia of life she had not come across anyone to fit the bill. The task requested was immense, but this was King Thranduil asking. Her king! He was asking her consent to carry out a difficult task, and truly, looking upon him now, she would do anything, give anything, willingly and eagerly so. She had long yearned for a child of her own, and having seen some of the grand halls, there was no better place to raise one. King Thranduil had a reputation of being striking and cold, but there was a warm glimmer in his icy blue eyes looking down at her. Túel hoped her response was not too quick yet not too delayed. 

“I accept, Sire.” The words had her heart thrumming in her chest, wondering just what she’d agreed to. Perhaps the king would be kinder than the harsh tales of travelers she’d met; he certainly seemed so. Well, it was a strange circumstance he was in and he was pleasant toward her at least. And although there were few young elves born every century, none were created without the desire of both involved. 

Túel spotted a flash of surprise in the Elvenking’s eyes before he concealed it, secretly pleased they had come to the decision so quickly. Rather than a smile or spoken confirmation, he gave her a respected nod in return and it was settled. 

“Excellent.” Lord Gellamon’s curt words cut the air sharply, and she turned her head to look at him for further instruction. “Milady, if you would follow me, I shall show you to your prepared chamber.” 

Suddenly the title was correct. Not that Túel was a lady of the court by any means, but as secret mistress to the King. Arda, what was she doing? 

She trailed the advisor once more after departing King Thranduil’s presence, and he lead her down countless halls that felt more like a maze than organized in any way. She’d have plenty of time to learn them now, she supposed. 

“Your room is here.” Gellamon stopped in front of a nearly hidden door, “There is a passageway through to the King’s chambers. You are only to use it at his discretion.” 

“Thank you.” She moved to enter, but a look from the advisor said that there was more to discuss. 

“In your time here, you may be honest about your origins. However, should any question you too deeply, it might be wise to say you are a distant cousin of mine.” Gellamon offered. 

“I understand.” And she did, as such was a precarious situation. 

“Then I bid you well rest. There will be plenty of time to acquaint yourself with the palace later.” The advisor said his farewell and was off down the same hall they came. 

Túel pushed open the door and was met with what she supposed was a standard servant’s room, as Gellamon had said it was connected secretly to King Thranduil’s chambers. But compared to the loft above the tavern she had lived in for many centuries, it was practically lavish. The same ornate carvings in the walls she’d passed earlier were seen lining the ceiling, and the bed was wider than her own, deep red linens and plush fabrics. There was a narrow but tall window out which she could see the forest through which she arrived. A wardrobe was set aside, in where she observed that the guard had placed her knapsack before her arrival, and a there was desk primed with paper and writing utensils. 

Looking around closer, a certain feature of the room caught her eye. Túel investigated and looked closer at the large floor-to-ceiling tapestry hung on the wall. Pulling back the side of the curtain, she was faced with an empty entryway. Albeit narrower than the proper door, it was lit and she knew the King’s chambers must be on the other side. 

Letting the tapestry fall back into its place of concealment, she turned to her knapsack and made to put away the few items of clothing she had brought. But her thoughts suddenly overwhelmed her and she sat on the bed. 

Would the King bed her there or summon her to his rooms? The idea was titillating. Túel had never lain with another of her kind, but pleasuring herself was no foreign task. She dared allow herself to think on the sordid affair more. Would he do his deed quickly and efficiently with duty, or draw it out for his - or perhaps even her - pleasure? Either way, she found herself aching to put a few deftly placed fingers under her leggings at the image of the regal king on display for none but her, both in need for release and to quell her nerves on the whole, but the reality of her surroundings set in and she knew there were things to be done sooner rather than later. 

It took but a few moments to put her things away and she went immediately to the desk, taking inventory of the range of pens available. She needed to write a message to the tavern where she worked notifying her absence. Forbid they think she vanished by orcs and sent a party after her. It was quick and to the point, letting them know that she was pursuing an opportunity elsewhere, and then she folded up the letter to be sent off soon. 

A soft knock on the room’s door brought her to her feet, and she answered it immediately. A guard, the same from earlier was on the other side.

“The king wishes to dine with you in his chambers at dusk, milady.” 

As he left, Túel closed the door behind him and took a deep breath. It was not yet midday and there were still hours to go until dusk. She was weary from riding all night and then the morning’s meeting, but more than anything she needed to bathe. The mud splatters on her leggings had dried, but there was a sweaty sheen to her skin that she hardly wanted to present on her first evening with the king. 

Which presented a bit of a small dilemma. 

Túel needed to bathe but there was no apparent washroom attached to her own room nor had she seen or been pointed out one on the walk there. This left her with a few conclusions. Likely any servant who had previously occupied her room used a common washroom of which she had no knowledge of its whereabouts, nor did she think it wise to go find it. The only other option, one that she wasn’t sure about, was that given the passageway to the King’s chambers, she was expected to use his. 

Although private, and Gellamon’s advice to stay out unless invited, she was going to need to tend to her hygiene at some point. Túel surmised the warning was mostly to stay away from the King’s bedroom, or secluded office, or whatever rooms the chamber contained. Surely the washroom wasn’t off limits. So she set to it and pulled back the tapestry. Certainly, the King was about doing other duties during the day. She would not be interrupting anything in his chambers. 

The other end of the passage was no more than a few yards away, hidden just the same by an identical vibrant woven fabric. She wasn’t nosing around, Túel told herself, she was orienting herself with the palace. 

Carefully, still cautious about her new home, she peeled it back from its place. Ahead was another short hall. Well, that was uneventful. She continued ahead and noted three entryways, one on each side. The largest before her were surely the king’s private rooms. But to her right was the open doorway of what seemed an entire room transformed into a wardrobe, fabrics and various attire neatly folded and hung throughout. While a sight to behold, it wasn’t what she came for. 

Thank Valinor, the archway to her left lead immediately to stairs going downward, the sound of lapping water beckoning. Her light feet made no noise as she entered the washroom, and she was astounded by the opulence of the room. Practically a natural cave, the walls and pillars were carved in the same style as the wood above. A bench and wine chalices were out, and a small table with various soaps. But the real draw was the pool, hand carved into the floor and refreshed by running water from a source she could not see. 

It was incredibly enticing, and she grabbed a vial of the most plentiful soap there was, not wanting to deplete any of the king’s favorites unintentionally. Her skin itched to purge itself in the waters, and she hastily undressed, freeing her hair as she stepped in, immensely pleased to find it warm to the touch. 

Túel fully submerged, then rose to get to work. The soap worked wonders, rejuvenating her skin while smelling faintly of the small white flowers she’d seen bloom out of every crevice in spring. 

But she didn’t dally. She could picture long afternoons in those waters, but not today. Túel wrung out her hair and redressed in the tunic alone, choosing to carry back the muddy leggings and boots in her arms. 

All was quiet as she returned to her room, and she deposited of the dirty clothing next to the wardrobe, turning to see that someone had left a small mid-morning meal on her table. Dressing into the blue gown she’d brought in mind of the coming evening, she set about eating the now lunch, much hungrier than before. 

Gellamon had advised her to rest and with still some time before she was to meet with the king, that’s exactly what she did. The bed was soft, with just enough room for her to extend fully and still have space. 

Elves did not require much in the means of sleep, but she slept soundly and comfortably for several hours, waking to find her hair had dried and the sunset just beginning to dip low in the sky. Dusk would be upon Mirkwood soon. 

Túel brushed the few tangles out of her hair and decided to leave it free in the same manner as most elves chose to do, only adding a few small braids tied back to keep the wisps out of her face.


	3. Chapter 3

Túel was called to dine in the king’s chambers and it wasn’t difficult to see what was meant by that. She had been chosen and agreed to bear him an heir, and that was only achieved through one method. Absently, she wondered if it would have been more proper to enter from the main door to the King’s chambers, but she had no idea how the halls were laid out and the passageway would do just as fine. 

There was a bundle of nerves coiled deep in her stomach, the sight of the Elvenking in all his glory that morning was breathtaking. How was she supposed to remain calm through the evening? But she made her way through the passage nonetheless and walked through the archway directly ahead. Rather than lead directly to a bedroom as she had surmised, there was another choice before her, to the left a dimmer lit room where she could make out a bed, and to her right, the alluring scent of well-spiced meats. 

Túel entered and was met yet again by a grand display of the King’s position of power. A table, large enough to entertain a private party yet intimate enough to seat a few as well was carved and displayed near a sitting area and fireplace on the other side of the room. Beauty was valued here above much else, and she suddenly felt small. She wasn’t aware the room was already occupied until she turned her head and saw the King pouring two chalices of wine, her host having obviously seen her gawking. 

“King Thranduil.” She bowed slightly in greeting, by miracle her voice not catching in her throat. The king was not wearing his crown nor the extravagant silken cloak that trailed behind him that morning. 

“Lady Túel.” He nodded back in a returned greeting, a show of respect he owed none.

“Please, Sire, call me Túel only.” She felt awkward being addressed above her rank, especially by him. 

“Then you must call me only Thranduil in return.” He passed her her chalice before she could protest the instruction. “For in this endeavor, we are equals. Nothing less.” 

“Very well,” She acknowledged, “Thranduil.” 

He gestured for her to seat herself at the table, a spread made available to graze from. 

Thranduil took the seat opposite and noticed how she eyed his attire, particularly where his crown was not. He didn’t think it apt to remind them either of the duty they were there for. They were going to create a life together willingly, the pressure of the power at play would certainly not help. 

“Are you rested from your travels?” He asked, partaking in the sweet dorwinion wine. 

“Yes, thank you.” She smiled and tried the wine as well, finding it much grander than any served in the tavern she’d so recently left. The Elvenking then leaned forward so she might understand the levity with which he spoke.

“You have my gratitude that you have agreed to this arrangement. It is more daunting a task than many brave souls would accept.” Thranduil informed her, all too aware of how idle gossip worked in his own palace.

“I think,” Túel started, just as honest. “I would have agreed even against greater odds. I feel a sense that this was meant to happen the longer I am in your palace.” 

“Perhaps.” Thranduil acknowledged. He was not one to ever question or wonder what mischief the fates planned. 

“But do not thank me now,” She quickly added, amending his previous statement. “We have not yet conceived.” 

She felt a blush across her cheeks as she stated it, and did not notice how Thranduil looked down at his chalice the same as she. 

There was a bounty of food to choose from, and the meal earlier in the day had merely held her until then. Túel helped herself as Thranduil did, a lull in the conversation. 

“Is your room to your standards?” He asked, changing topics to her comfort. 

“It’s more than I could have asked for, you are kind in accommodating me so.” She said truthfully, recalling the ease with which she drifted off on the bed. 

“You are welcome to explore the palace at your own leisure, so long as you do not venture outside the walls unaccompanied,” Thranduil instructed, something she looked forward to doing in the coming days. “I would particularly recommend the library. Aranel, your guard would be a fair guide until you are used to the halls on your own.” 

“I look forward to it.” She smiled again, thankful that while she had agreed to be there, Thranduil had no intention of keeping her like a caged bird. 

“Is there anything you need with any urgency?” He knew she had only left her home the night before.

“I brought anything I own of any value. However, I have written a letter to the tavern in which I worked that briefly explains my absence.” Túel said, which was received by a nod. 

“It will be taken care of. Seeing as you didn’t arrive with much, I’ll send a seamstress for your measurements.” Thranduil offered, which was a good idea. Her attire was better suited to the bustle of a town rather than the intricacies of court. But given there was not much else for her to do and her own interest, she shook her head.

“I am happy to sew my own garments. I will take whatever fabric is available.” She admitted, earning unseen respect in the king’s eyes. Her drive and resourcefulness were admirable qualities. 

Túel continued to pick from the plethora of food laid out, but Thranduil had hardly touched his own plate during the minutes that passed. His attention altered between the chalice graciously grasped in hand and studying her. 

In truth, he knew naught but the little what his advisors had informed him and that she had herself told him. She seemed happy, and he had been a bit taken aback by her altruistically quick response to the reason which she had been brought to the palace. Like that morning, she appeared… plain. Her dress was a woolen blend and her features were not particularly fascinating to look at. But there was a beauty in the simple Thranduil could appreciate. For as a whole, Túel was indeed far from the least refined of their race. It was a surprise she had not already bonded with a life partner. 

Thranduil refilled his wine before moving to the settee by the fire, progressing the evening as naturally as it was possible. Túel took queue to do the same and put down her own drink, coming to arrange herself on the other end of the same seat, facing Thranduil and folding her hands nervously. As it was only their first shared night of many to come, she wasn’t entirely sure of his boundaries yet. 

Túel’s mouth moved to form words and as Thranduil could guess what they were going to approximate, he cut her off. 

“As we will be getting to know each other for some period of time, you have my respect.” The king spoke, voice low before turning amused with the same intonation, cocking an eyebrow and hoping to have put any unease of hers to rest. “Rest assured I have no intention of bending you over the table like a whore to be disposed of.” 

There was a sudden flush of color in Túel’s face that was decidedly not from the wine, but she didn’t hesitate to form a confident if not cheeky response. She leaned forward a bit, even though she knew he could hear her regardless. “And if I wanted you to?” 

The question momentarily caught the king off guard - no small feat, sending a jolt directly southward with the minute smirk on her face. Thranduil chuckled appreciatively, taking a final sip of his wine and placing it down on the side table. “Another night, then.” He spoke of debauchery to come and Túel couldn’t help ducking her head as she quelled a laugh. “I will admit I am intrigued. Tell me something of yourself.” 

She looked on at him for specification and he mulled for a moment before picking a topic. “In all of the Woodland Realm, what place is your favorite?” The question was benign but spoke volumes. She absentmindedly brushed her fingers through the ends of her loose hair, thinking. 

“There is a meadow in the north,” Túel informed him. “Not a day’s walk from my village and untouched by the darkness. Too many flowers to count grow there and there is an opening in the trees.” She met his eyes. “It is breathtaking.” 

Thranduil nodded, and she wasn’t sure if that meant that he knew the exact spot or that he deemed her answer acceptable, but it was her turn to make a move. 

“If we are equals as you say, you must tell me something of yourself in return.” Well, Túel wasn’t quite sure how much she could pry even with their standing but he was in a pleasant mood.

“What is it you desire to know?” His arm was close to hers and she could see just how detailed the embroidered gold patterns on his sleeve were. 

“Something innocent.” Túel shook her head, assuring him she was not about to ask him something too scandalous, a flirtatious banter beginning to build as they got to know one another. 

“Such as?” Thranduil spoke and she had to think on her feet for something to fit the bill. 

“Your very first kiss.” She said with a bite of her lip. It was innocent enough, yet the king was more complex the longer she took him in. “Tell me of it.” 

“Ancient history, more like.” The king’s chest huffed, but it was in good spirits. “Very well.” He found he had no desire to turn her down the way she was looking at him. 

Túel allowed her palm to fall on his arm as he began to speak, feeling the finely woven silk beneath her fingers and despite his affinity for looking impeccable and remaining untouched, he did not mind whatsoever. 

“I was a very young elfling. Not yet half a century of age and not yet residing in the splendor of Greenwood.” Thranduil started. “I battled wooden swords under a willow tree with a servant’s son.” There was a smile forming on his mouth at the memory. A buried memory dredged up from before centuries upon centuries of war and scars, but a pleasant one he held close as well. Túel’s inspective fingers found their way up his shoulder now and she let out an airy ring of a laugh. 

“Oh?” She could hardly imagine the legendary swordsman so young.

“I was still learning proper forms, you see.” Thranduil made to defend the words he said next, “And in one fell swoop-“ He deftly grabbed her waist and planted her on his lap, annunciating the word and making her grin, “He knocked me to the ground.” 

“Someone bested the mighty Thranduil?” Túel jested, mirroring the lightheartedness of his current mood. 

“I had let him.” He insisted. “For he’d wagered a kiss should he win.” 

“I see.” She shook her head, beaming at the tale of a youthful bet. 

Thranduil was looking her eyes, the sound of her laugh a melodic note to his years, and he reached forward with gentle fingertips, closing the small distance and bringing Túel’s soft lips to his own. It began tender and she pressed into the kiss in return, lips parting and tasting. He surprised her when he nipped at her bottom lip, lifting her at the hips just enough to adjust her side perch to a straddle for an improved angle, one of each of her knees on either side of his. 

“You’re beautiful.” The two words escaped Túel’s mouth when they parted for air, and the Elvenking in all his splendor truly was. He greedily kissed her again. Her hands had gone from appreciating his extravagant attire to feeling the firm chest beneath the fabric, so close yet so far away from her touch. Thranduil’s own lithe fingers trailed her body, taking in the sensation until they found a satisfactory position to rest, one hand on her hip and the other caressing the contour of her breast on the opposite side. The fabric beneath the pads of his fingers was hardly an acceptable standard of quality to what he preferred to don his own body with, but as Túel had chosen that exact moment to shift in small movements on his lap, he did not care in the slightest. 

A groan escaped from somewhere deep in his body. It had been long, far too long since Thranduil had given into primal desires, and considering there was, in fact, a purpose to their endeavor, he needed to move them to the bedroom before it became a fruitless effort. 

Túel was on top of him and his mouth was now planting firm yet delicate kisses up her jaw. He decided it would be less of a hassle to just up and carry her, and with a swift move of strength, Thranduil’s arms grasped beneath her legs and she let out a little gasp as he did. She brought her arms around his neck and allowed him to bring her to his destination hardly registering the change until her back met the plush of his bed, the king standing before her having let go in the process. 

She teasingly ran her toes - the slipper on her foot had fallen off along the way - up his leg and gave him as sultry a look as she could manage. “You’re wearing far too many layers.” 

“As are you.” Thranduil shot back, lips parted and eyes hungry. 

Túel was only wearing the blue dress and so she took her time unfastening the clasps behind her neck, but the king made hasty work of his own many intricate ties. She would have to learn how to undo them in time, but for now, she was very nearly dripping with want from his kisses and the sudden sight of Thranduil’s taut, naked form nearly put her over the edge then and there.

As soon as she had freed herself of her down and thrown it down to the floor, he drank in the elleth’s body lying ready for him and waiting. Her nipples were pert on smooth breasts and her legs tantalizing, the fine hairs smooth to the touch. With such a display awaiting before him, and his own arousal firm and painfully alert between his legs, he wondered why he had ever considered turning down the prospect. 

Thranduil dove for her lips yet again and Túel could have waxed poetic about his tongue when the king’s fingers slid down her body, reaching her opening and dispelling any process of thought far from mind. He had no doubt he would not last long from the obscene sounds coming from her mouth; Túel’s instantaneous reaction to the ministrations of his hand, prying and readying her body to accept him fully. 

She keened under him, her back arching and legs naturally tightening behind his own, she was prompting him. Pleading for more, her mouth gaping for breath. Thranduil knew she had been without a lover and as his now fully erect cock pressed in, he moved his fingers to her clitoris so that the new sensation would be met fully with pleasure. 

At first, she gripped the bed with fervor, adjusting to the overwhelming sensation, then reached to bring his head to hers as Thranduil sank in fully. A deep groan bellowed from his chest and she rolled her hips, already so close to blissful release.  
His mouth was on hers as he began to move. Slowly at first, building to quick snaps of the hips, hitting deep inside. 

In any other circumstance, it might have been a grave error to touch the king’s perfectly placed mane of white gold, but Túel wove her hands into the back of his hair and tugged just so slightly that Thranduil’s head followed, a gasp from his lips and he was pumping harder. 

The angle was just right and the effect just so that she trembled, bundled nerves ablaze as she came. Túel murmured the name he’d allowed her to use and with but a few more erratic thrusts, the king followed suit. He spilled into her, thick and hot seed, pulling her flush with him as he did. The feeling was more than she had imagined. Weighed down into the covers of the bed, she evened her breath. 

There was no going back now. 

After Thranduil had regained his own senses, he withdrew and let himself collapse beside her, spent. There was a tranquil moment of silence between them and he very nearly shocked Túel when he took her hand in his own and placed a ginger, open-mouthed kiss to her knuckles. 

They had yet to figure a protocol for the aftermath of their illicit affair, and so Túel got up and collected her dress from its pile on the floor and quietly did up the clasps after putting it on. 

“You would join me again tomorrow night?” Thranduil half-asked, half decided for her as she made for the door. She felt the heat in her cheeks at the thought of a repeat performance and nodded, hiding a smile. 

“Of course. I look forward to it.” And with that, she departed for her room on light legs, heart hammering in her chest.


	4. Chapter 4

Túel woke the next morning to find dawn had already come and gone, the sun risen above the trees. She’d wasted no time in falling asleep the night prior and had practically fallen into bed still clothed in her blue gown.   
There were trousers and a fitted tunic in her wardrobe that would be suitable to wear for the day, and as she changed by the mirror, she could just make out the quickly fading remnants of marks made from the throes of passion and stilled for a moment. The elves of Greenwood healed fast and so any traces of her affair would be gone by mid-day, but the sight reminded her of the torrid night with the king and all the things he’d done to her. 

On the other side of the door to her room awaited Aranel at his post, and he greeted her with a nod.

“Where are you headed this morning, milady?” 

“Food.” Túel smiled, “I’m famished.” 

“I’d be happy to show you the way.” The guard gestured for her to walk beside him and she matched his steps. 

“I still do not know anyone in the court yet. Would you mind sitting with me?” She asked, hoping he’d agree. Túel needed to make friends and Aranel seemed pleasant enough. 

“I would not mind at all.” He had a friendly disposition that morning and she absently wondered how much the elf knew about her situation. The king would have ordered him to silence regardless, but Túel was curious anyway. 

“Anywhere in particular you would like to go afterward?” Aranel asked as they walked, maintaining the small conversation.

“Wherever fabric is kept. I’m in need of new linens and material to craft a new wardrobe.” She had ideas already and she had yet to even start. 

“Of course.” He acquiesced, then added quietly: “King Thranduil has provided a discretionary allowance of whatever you should need. I suggest you take advantage of it.” Aranel had an amused glint in his eye. “A new shipment of silks has recently arrived. You may have the first pick of all the finest.” 

“Well then, I think I must.” Túel agreed as the pair now entered a great app filled with finely crafted tables and a fervent or two distributing meals to the few in the palace who had also come at that hour for nourishment. Just two days prior and she had been the one serving, and she could properly appreciate their dedication to expediency, for as soon as they sat, a platter of spreads and fruit in harvest were in reach. 

As promised, Aranel led her to the storage room where bolts of fabrics were kept and Túel did her best to remember the layout of the various halls of the palace that they passed through in order to be able to soon explore and navigate on her own. 

To her delight, the samples of fabrics were organized by both material and color and Túel wasted no time in picking out exactly what would suit her ideas, taking large cuttings of them. Supplies were also plentiful and Aranel watched on curiously as the other elf flitted about the place for the better portion of an hour until her arms were full of all the things she required. He didn’t hesitate to come to her aid as they walked back to her chambers and set down the collection on her table. 

“Anything else I might be of assistance with?” Aranel was entertained with how Túel looked like she was itching to get started. 

“Thank you for the help.” She put down her own bundle of material on the table as well. “I’m eager to begin my work with this, but tomorrow would you mind showing me to the library? It was recommended and I find myself curious.” Túel asked, hopeful. 

“As you wish.” Aranel agreed and left her to her devices. 

She got right to it and it wasn’t until a glance out the window did she notice just how much time had passed. The sun had just set, the final rays of light sinking below the horizon for the night. Túel's work on a new dress wasn’t quite finished, but she’d agreed to meet the king! 

Túel’s stomach fluttered with nerves at the prospect of a repeat of the night before, wondering if she was enjoying this all too much. She had agreed to this with a goal in mind. Surely there would come a time when she would no longer be called to the Elvenking’s chambers, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t take her pleasure from it in the meantime. 

Standing from her desk, she quickly brushed away the stray threads that had clung to her attire before running a hand through her hair in an effort to tame it. With a deep breath and airy spring in her step, she passed through to Thranduil’s rooms. 

The archway to his bedroom was dark, and so she entered the other room, surmising he must have been waiting for her in there as the evening before. Looking between the fireplace and dining area, the king was not in sight. She did not know exactly what a king’s duties entailed, but it wasn’t difficult to imagine Thranduil was caught up in some meeting or another. 

Even if the owner of the chambers Túel stood in wasn’t home, she had been explicitly invited and as such took to exploring the large room and all its fixtures. There were tall, grand bookshelves above the fireplace with a top shelf she wouldn’t have been able to reach even standing on her toes. A private collection of his, she guessed, the spine of each tome scripted upon in gold lettering, the titles in an ancient dialect of Quenya Túel wasn’t fluent in. 

She stepped back to take in the gigantic set of antlers - an elk’s - above when the main doors practically flew open, the wood clanging heavily as they did, causing her to startle briefly. The doors swung back to their natural closed position as Thranduil entered the room. No, this was not the tender Thranduil she had encountered the day prior, but the Elvenking with a stoic fury in his eyes. Something had him worked up, and he scanned the room before locking eyes with the other occupant. 

“Túel.” Thranduil walked swiftly to her side and without a second thought crashed his mouth into hers, nearly causing her to stumble before she clung to his arm for stability. “Did you not yesterday say you wanted it rough?” He asked permission in a raspy tone that unexpectedly went right between Túel’s legs. Thranduil’s brow was furrowed and determined. 

“Yes.” She consented, mouth still open from the all but chaste kiss. 

“Good.” He began, “Because tonight I desire nothing else.” 

Before Túel had any time to consider Thranduil’s words, he was on her again, mouth on hers, and guiding them backward with a grip on her waist that ensured she would not stray from his path. 

The entwined pair made it across the room until the edge of the thick table met Túel’s backside with a thump. The king stopped, gave her one last kiss with a nip of her bottom lip, then promptly turned her body so she was facing away. 

Knowing exactly where this was going and face red with near shame at how much she was enjoying it, Túel bent at the wast until she was lying flat on the table, feet still planted on the floor. Thranduil immediately appreciatively pressed up against her with a low hum, gripping her wrists tight enough to guide them to a place above her head. 

She could feel his growing want, a hardening in his trousers grinding slowly against her and she let out a plead that surprised them both. 

Thranduil let go of her arms only to search for the hem of her pants and forcefully pull them down to her knees, exposing her. Túel couldn’t see from that angle, but she could hear the untying of his own leggings and from anticipation also she was sure to be wet. 

A gasp fell from her lips when two fingers entered her without warning, teasing what was to come and not nearly enough. Sufficiently prepared, Thranduil angled himself behind her and with one swift thrust was fully ensheathed inside her. 

Tuel’s stomach arched upward off the table as they both let out sounds of pleasure. Her hands had moved from where the king had carefully placed them, and with a near growl in her ear, Thranduil leaned to remedy that. 

“You will do as I say.” His tone implied discipline, but precisely the kind she might revel in. 

“Yes.” Túel complied, breath escaping her lungs as Thranduil started to move. Her legs nearly threatened to give way, weak and overwhelmed, and she was fortunate for the table holding her up. The only sound in the room was the echoes of his skin on hers and just as her crescendo began, Túel forgot her vow and moved her hands to grip the side of the table down by her hips.

“You would disobey me?” The king caught her action and slowed his pace, guiding her hands back to where he determined suitable. She squirmed for release, needing it. 

“Would you punish me, Thranduil?” 

Now, while he foresaw her playful behavior after he realized just how much she relished his control, he had not actually thought that far ahead. But Túel clearly wanted it, and the Elvenking was never one to back down from a thinly veiled threat. 

The two of them were still very nearly fully clothed, but her behind was perfectly bare.

“For your insolence.” Thranduil decided then and planted a firm yet sharp open palm on her arse. Túel writhed on the table, the sting of the strike coupled with her want was all too much and yet she desired more. 

The king snapped his hips flush with hers again, penetrating her deep and rocking the table. Túel moaned loudly. She wasn’t sure how she would walk after this, but she was so close it didn’t matter. Her feet lifted off the floor, only her toes brushing the wood paneling as Thranduil came with a groan, the final buried thrusts enough sensation to finally bring her over the edge too. 

Both of them were panting as they stood, and Túel turned shakily, a satisfied look mirrored between them. The king righted his clothing as she did, and she couldn’t help holding back a titter of a laugh at the sight of him so disheveled, crown nearly falling from its perch on his head. 

“Quite the change of pace.” Túel shook out her hair. “I admire your many sides.” Thranduil looked caught for words, but he chuckled low in return. 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow.” She nodded, unable to help the grin plastered across her face.


	5. Chapter 5

Túel’s third day in the palace of Greenwood was the perfect opportunity to explore. The project she had started the day before was yet to be completed, but there would be ample time to finish it later. She was itching to truly figure her way around the never-ending halls. 

As he said he would, Aranel showed her to the library where she met Ninniacheth, the keeper of the books. She was reshelving a few thick volumes with dark green leather bindings when she saw Túel looking around at the expanse of the room. 

“Are you seeking any work in particular?” Ninniacheth asked softly, noting the newcomer hadn’t been seen in the library before. 

“Just admiring.” Túel shook her head. “This collection here is extensive. I’ve never seen so many books in one place.” Her comment was met with a smile. 

“You are not from this part of the Woodland Realm,” Ninniacheth observed, looking over the younger elf. 

“No,” Túel confirmed. “I have just recently arrived from a village in the north.” 

“Not very many come to the heart of Greenwood who do not already reside here.” The librarian commented, then nodded with a soft smile. “Welcome. I am Ninniacheth. Consider me a friend.” 

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” Túel beamed. “Call me Túel.” 

Considering the lack of friends in her new life and the indefinite amount of time she was going to be living in the palace, Túel was considerably proud of herself for convincing both Aranel and the librarian to join her for the evening meal in the dining hall later in the day. The grand hall was much more lively in the afternoons, and the boisterous atmosphere was nearly as convivial as evenings in the tavern. 

But when sunset came upon the palace, the reminder of her agreement with the king beckoned, and Túel excused herself from the meal. 

There was much to mull over as she made her way to her room and then to Thranduil’s chambers. While she didn’t truly know the king yet, she was learning, and she was in awe of the difference between reputation and reality. However, before anything else, Túel had an agreement forged. She was there to produce an heir for the Elvenking but she had a tugging feeling it wasn’t supposed to be nearly this captivating. The softness of Thranduil’s lips had not been remotely in mind when she consented. He had ravished her senseless twice already, and heat pooled deep in her body at the knowing it was far from over. 

Túel found the king in his bedroom for a change, and she leaned against the doorframe for a moment, taking in the sight of him finishing the last pages of a book, expression blank. 

“Thranduil.” She spoke his name in greeting and his face turned to her, lips pursing in sudden amusement. It was a vast contrast from the fierceness in his eyes the day before. Túel approached the bed with a tilted smile and leaned against the frame, arms folded, watching as he put down the book on the side table. “Anything specific in mind tonight?” 

“Yes.” The straightforward answer was not expected, although if anyone knew exactly what they wanted it would likely be the king. “I mean to show you my… gratitude for yesterday.” Thranduil admitted, recalling the way Túel had immediately gone along with his request, even as sudden and forceful it had been. 

“Oh?” She was curious but looked down at her hands. “I feel it is I who would be thanking you.” Túel couldn’t help the blush at how quick her body had responded to being bent over. 

“Strip yourself of those garments.” Thranduil prompted, raising an eyebrow in challenge. 

“As you wish.” She agreed, biting her lip apprehensively. Túel had never been on display like this, but her time in the king’s chambers had shown there was a first for everything, and she liked the way Thranduil’s eyes followed her movements in appreciation. Her fingers worked away at the clasps and ties of her plain attire and she did not fumble. 

Túel did her best to keep her demeanor calm and the gentle sway of her hips methodical, and by the time the last item of clothing hit the floor with finality, she could tell by Thranduil’s acute intake of breath it was working for him. 

She stood before the king fully bare and appearing as confident as she could, her hair pushed back behind her shoulders. Thranduil stood and stepped to her. He ran light fingers up her arm, his gaze following each path he traced across her body. Túel shivered at the touch, her skin inspected and found adequate for his presence. His hands followed the from her collar to the line of her jaw and he met her eyes with a whisper. 

“On the bed.” Thranduil moved to allow her access and she followed instruction precisely, waiting for his next move. 

The Elvenking’s gaze stayed locked with hers and she felt her whole body tinge with rosy blush when he began the work of disrobing from his own attire. Layer after layer revealed bits of exposed, smooth skin until he too was just as bare. 

Thranduil may have been a king who enjoyed partaking in the plethora of splendor from his kingdom, but he was a hardened warrior first. Túel reached to feel the tight planes of his abdomen, taut muscle primed for aiding in welding the most powerful of weapons. 

As he climbed into the bed with her, his lips grazed her cheek in a light kiss before trailing down her body in much a similar fashion as his fingers had minutes before. Túel could see how erect his cock was now, and she moved to reach between them in hopes of giving him some relief of its strain, but her hand was pushed away with a chuckle against her stomach as Thranduil continued his path downward. 

His mouth continued the exploratory kisses, nibbling between her breasts and down her stomach, making her clench her muscles to keep from writhing when he reached the soft mound between her legs. 

The king wordlessly put a hand on each of her thighs and pried them open, separated just enough that-

“Oh!” Túel gasped, air escaping in a quick breath. She fisted her hands in the luxurious bedlinen when Thranduil was suddenly placing openmouthed kisses around her opening, then licking a long stripe upward, the sensation on her clitoris tenfold the pleasure. She couldn’t help the way her hips bucked, overcome with desire. More. Túel needed more. “Please!” 

She keened under him and Thranduil did not hesitate in giving her exactly what she asked for. His own arousal was pulsating at the sight, but he kept at it, utterly devouring the valley between her legs. It wasn’t long until she struggled for breath, her voice letting out an incoherent string of begging syllables for his ministrations. 

A final flick of Thranduil’s tongue and Túel shouted his name, gripping anything around her for dear life as she came, waves of sensation crashing all at once. He moved forward and slipped into her with ease, needing only a few ragged thrusts before he was spilling into her, murmuring her name against her forehead where she had dragged him as he released. The king looked exquisite as he came, mouth open in ecstasy and eyes closed, all attention focused on where they were conjoined. 

He had worshipped her body because going forward it was no longer to be solely hers, and he needed her to know how much it was valued. The sentiment did not go unnoticed, and Túel placed a light kiss to his cheek when he was spent, watching as he relaxed enough to move to the open space on the bed. 

“How-” Thranduil began to ask after they had both regained their senses. “Are you finding this part of the Woodland Realm?” 

Túel very nearly laughed at the abrupt question, as a post-coitus conversation was not something they’d engaged in before. Although she’d only known him less than a week and it was still early enough that it was not outside the sphere of normalcy for the king. “It is far better than I could have imagined.” She smiled lazily beside him. “I took your suggestion and explored the library.” 

“Yes?” Thranduil looked pleased.

“And I’ve started on crafting a new wardrobe. There is a lot of work to be done, yet, but it is coming along.” 

“Excellent.” The king nodded, looking tired now. “Tomorrow evening, join me again for the evening meal?” He was inviting her to dine again and Túel found she had no desire to turn him down. 

“I will.” She agreed firmly, finally getting to gather her discarded attire in her arms, not overstaying her welcome. “Until then.” She nodded farewell, fully aware she gave Thranduil quite the display of her backside as she left. 

Perhaps in another life, if they had met under another circumstance, she and the Elvenking would have made great acquaintances. But this, as clandestine and unorthodox as it was, Túel found she did not mind one bit.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I am writing this without a beta so who knows we’re just out here for a good time

Túel’s fourth day at the palace found her holed up in her room. She’d envisioned endless patterns for new clothes with the fabric she’d chosen and was up to her ears in stitchwort. The newcomer’s presence was by now noticed by most in the Mirkwood palace’s court, and her village appropriate clothing was only gathering more curious eyes than she needed speculating on her presence. 

There was green silk lined with silver that Túel had picked that would make a fine dress and she was eager to wear it at the first opportunity now that it was nearly finished. She still had yet to learn some of the more intricate stitches she’d observed on the attire of those around the palace, but her designs were at least a vast upgrade. 

She nearly missed sunset as she put the final touches on the bodice of the green silk gown, but she donned it with confidence, proud of its timely completion as she readied to dine with the king for the second time. 

Túel’s dedication to her handiwork did not go unnoticed when she met Thranduil in his chambers, and she beamed as he eyed her attire fully. 

“Fine craftsmanship. I commend you.” And it certainly was a step up from the muddy pants she’d worn when they first met. The Elvenking was a trendsetter in his own right, the court closely followed any new style he partook in, and so coming from him, the compliment held great weight. 

“Thank you.” Túel smoothed her skirt, standing tall before following Thranduil to the table, taking the chalice of wine he extended toward her as she did. 

The meal prepared for the two was exquisite of course, but she hardly registered it when there was a sight she’d come to know was far more delectable before her. Túel was dressed to please her king and that was exactly what she intended for the night. 

And in turn, when they finished, Túel made the first move. There was a glint in Thranduil’s eye at her eagerness to get to it. She’d come from a maiden in the north to begging for his attentions in the bedchamber. Valar, she was quite the change to his routine. Although in honesty, Thranduil had hardly expected to become just as fervent for his touch. 

He dispelled any thought from mind and took Túel’s outstretched hand, interested only in whatever it was she had intended for the evening. 

Having tugged the king all the way to the bedroom, Thranduil captured her lips in a kiss that she could only describe as divine, and she pushed at his chest until he fell back against the covers of the bed. He arched one of his thick, dark brows at her, a smug smirk tugging at his lips. Túel quickly pulled her dress over her head, not bothering to take her time with it. Crawling over him now, she leaned in for a kiss before her hands went to work unclasping his complicated attire, desire fueling her ardor. Thranduil let it happen, satisfied to let her do the work, tugging his clothes over his head as she loosened them. 

Túel finally freed his cock from under his garments and readily took it in hand. Now, she’d never done exactly this before, but by the hiss that escaped the king’s lips, she was doing it right. She stroked it until it reached its full length, hardening under the tactile ministrations of her nimble fingers. Túel backed up and leaned down even further only to place a fluttering kiss and light lick to the head that made Thranduil’s hips jerk in reflex. 

Adar, the wicked look in her eye was practically enough to bring about his release, but he was determined to hold out. 

“Túel.” Thranduil gasped more than spoke, and with fluidity to her movement, the other elf lifted herself enough forward to position him below her entrance and sunk down to the hilt. She let out a moan at the primal and satisfying feeling at being full of him, and the Elvenking let his head arch back in pleasure. 

She wasn’t moving, not yet, and Thranduil went to grasp her hips to begin much needed friction, but Túel swatted his hands away in much a similar manner that he had her when their positions were reversed. Yesterday he had pleased her and tonight it was her turn. 

With a tantalizingly slow roll of her hips, he moved inside her, the sensation quickening both of their laborious breaths. Túel was going to do the work this time, and when she could draw it out no longer, she sped up the pace, riding him until Thranduil was heaving beneath her. Their combined movements rocked the bed against the wall with some measure of force. 

Túel had meant to ensure his pleasure first, but the heat between her legs was building in rhythm with their movements and she found she could no longer hold together when the king groaned loudly - surely loud enough for the guard outside to hear - and forced her upward, his own hips lifting as he released, spilling deep inside. She all but collapsed forward, finding her chest on his as she drew in a gasp with ecstasy. 

Thranduil withdrew, leaving her feeling oddly empty as Túel rolled off him, wondering exactly how she’d wound up being so fortunate to have been chosen. 

 

The next several weeks brought a similar routine to Túel’s life. During the day she kept busy with her work and the various things around the palace, and then the evenings were spent in thorough debauchery with the Elvenking. She’d made a few friends around in the copious spare time, and was grateful for the company, even if the real reason for her being there wasn’t entirely honest. The guard Aranel was kind and amicable, and the few times she saw Lord Gellamon in the halls he made sure to greet her pleasantly. Ninniacheth was there in the library each time she visited, and she was helping Túel learn of the history of the kingdom. She figured that if she was going to be continuing Thranduil’s line, it would be wise to know any historically significant familial grudges or things to never bring up in conversation. 

She had also met another young female elf in the great kitchens of the palace when she was still getting her bearings of the massive place, and Engrenil offered her directions in exchange for a little help with taking out a batch of lembas from the ovens. Familiar with preparation from centuries in a tavern, Túel didn’t mind at all, and informed Engrenil she would be happy to aid anytime there was an increase of tasks to be done. 

Túel had never had so much excitement in her near two thousand years, and with a fast-approaching day of celebration across the Woodland Realm, there was more to come. In the next week would take place the annual festivities signifying the end of a successful harvest season. It was usually accompanied by a feast to rival all other feasts. Túel wasn’t sure how the merriment usually occurred in the palace, but it had been a big occasion in her village. Every one of the inhabitants of the north would come together to prepare abundant meals and dance in the starlight. 

Whispers were awash in the palace of Greenwood, and great was the anticipation along with rumors that King Thranduil had gone to great lengths this year. Túel quickly learned that better than anything, better than his skill in battle or the dedication he took to his impeccable hair, the Elvenking knew how to throw an unforgettable party. 

In the days leading up to the celebration, not only was the whole palace vibrating with excitement and planning, Thranduil had putt even more fervor into their nightly sessions than Túel could anticipate. 

If she wasn’t already carrying his child, it was doubtless she would be soon. 

 

The day of celebration came at last and it was as if the whole place had undergone renovations. Sprigs of flowers and the evidence of nature in bloom were everywhere. Tiny white buds on long vines carried an inescapable, aromatic sweet scent to every corner. Huge bundles of harvested goods could be seen entering the palace from early in the morning. 

By late afternoon a feast to feed an army was beginning to be laid out in the grand hall, and the productive energy was infectious. There was no shortage of tasks to be done, and Túel made herself available to Engrenil and the kitchens to run errands, which was met with much gratitude. 

At dusk were the king’s private reserve caskets of Dorwinion wine broken out and poured, and the festivities were underway. When it was dark enough to observe the countless stars that shone down on the realm, did the party truly come alive. Talented musicians entered with lively music for all to enjoy, spirits were poured freely into abundant chalices, and even the usually restrained Lord Gellamon could be seen amongst the vivacious gathering of dancers. 

Túel did not hesitate in joining in. Thriving in the vibrant atmosphere, she eagerly accepted the opportunity to dance. She did not know every of the more formal numbers, the style slightly more refined than a village cavort, but she was quick to learn and with the influence of ale, any partner was very forgiving. 

The king watched over all the festivities from above at his own reserved table, and while he had on a stoic mask reserved for public affairs, even she could see how pleased he was. 

It had been a bountiful year for Greenwood and the Woodland Realm was that much closer to reclaiming its legacy of old. It was no secret that King Thranduil despised of the adopted moniker of Mirkwood that came when the darkness did. 

The Elvenking wasn’t dancing with his people, but he did have a steely reputation to maintain and no one would begrudge him that. 

Túel couldn’t help her gaze in his presence; there was but one word to describe the way he looked in his billowing gold cape, and it was utterly, entirely, regal. Everyone was there under his sovereign generosity and his appearance ensured they all knew it. 

Thranduil’s eyes met hers on more than one occasion, yet his expression did nothing to betray their clandestine arrangement. The court was a political arena, and no one had as much experience as the king. Now was not the time to expose the plan underway. 

It was late into the night when the king retired, although Túel had no doubt the party would likely endure well into the morning, and she excused herself not much later. 

Her footsteps were light despite hours of tiring dances, and she made her way to her destination, the music and cheers of the festivity fading in the distance. 

As predicted, Thranduil stayed up to wait for her and Túel could not keep the smile from her lips as he kissed them. They defiled one another’s body in the most tender of ways that night. The king ravished her slowly, generously, a rewarding encounter that left neither wanting. 

Túel made to gather her things and return to her own chamber for the remainder of the night when Thranduil spoke a word that had the potential to change everything.

“Stay.”


End file.
